darkness of autumn had become prominent, overflowing the atmosphere with its feeling of chilled comings. But today was different. Today was light.
Maybe it won’t be so bad.
With a big sigh, I ripped off my comforter and felt a breath of relief as the cool bedroom air hit my naked calves, skipped over my boxers, and ran up my stomach and chest. I rolled out of bed. My feet crunched on crumpled pieces of paper inked black and blue with words. I bent down and picked up a piece so scratched with ink, scars ran up and down where I had crossed through words.
This I wonder can feel:
I am nothing my dreams.
I am afraid of haunted by them.
They tell me secrets. They are whispers of truths.
I can feel my soul screaming at me to open up and believe .
Still, there isn’t I can’t find a truth to believe in.
I am nothing without truth someone more than this.
I am someone.
Am I even alive? Who am I?
The words shook in my hand, tiny letters shattering me. I had written this months ago. My dreams then were so haunted and real. I remembered the mist taking me each night. I remembered the light, my savage, saving grace. I remembered so much about my dreams, but I still didn’t know the truth about my reality.
Still my dreams were like that.
Still I had no truth.
I threw the paper to the floor and pushed my shoulders back. Today would be different than my dreams; it would be real. Answers were powerful things. That was enough.
I walked to the mirror on the back of my door and locked eyes with my reflection. Even if I didn’t know who I was today, I knew who I wouldn’t be.
I remembered his words: I’m doing this for you...
“I am not my father,” I whispered.
For a moment, he was all I could see. His eyes looked back. His hair lay matted on mine. His lips smiled as he drank me in.
I closed my eyes, willing that singing voice to fill my head again. I knew it wasn’t anything real, but lately, aside from Tyler, it was the only thing that believed in me.
Then, like the light in my dreams: Become who you will always be...
When I opened them, my eyes shone as bright as the moon, ever blue, and I was me.
I was me .
I had black bags under my eyes, and my hair, looking more messy than normal, was thrown every which way. I still had on my hoodie from yesterday and somehow it was half on and half off, one arm in and one arm exposed.
But I was me.
I was not my father’s son today.
I smiled-
let him fade to dust.
~
The hot water felt so good, soothing my muscles and burning my skin red; and within ten minutes I was showered and back in my room. I grabbed a clean pair of dark jeans from my dresser, almost fell over into a pile of paper as I was putting them on, and tugged a gray sweater over my head. I rubbed my eyes a little, trying to get the blackness out of them, but it was no use.
I made my way over to my desk. Sat, clicking the keys of my computer, searching. Somehow, I found myself looking at pictures in my photo album. I was amazed at how much I had grown over the past year, into someone more than the scrawny guy I had been when I started high school. I surfed through pictures and came to one of me and Tyler at our kindergarten graduation. His mom had forwarded it to me years ago. In it we were small, tiny compared to everything else. We were smiling. I didn’t remember that day, but I remembered being that age. That’s when the problems had started. Funny, how some people change and some stay the same.
My eyes drifted toward the bottom of the screen. The clock blinked neon: 10:02 AM.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
School started two hours ago.
I moved so quickly that I knocked over my desk chair and fell onto the floor.
Why didn’t my alarm go off?
With a thud of regret washing over me, I realized I had fallen asleep without setting the clock. I must have.
Where’s Mom?
10:03 AM.
No time to think. Time was rushing forward without
Maybe it won’t be so bad.
With a big sigh, I ripped off my comforter and felt a breath of relief as the cool bedroom air hit my naked calves, skipped over my boxers, and ran up my stomach and chest. I rolled out of bed. My feet crunched on crumpled pieces of paper inked black and blue with words. I bent down and picked up a piece so scratched with ink, scars ran up and down where I had crossed through words.
This I wonder can feel:
I am nothing my dreams.
I am afraid of haunted by them.
They tell me secrets. They are whispers of truths.
I can feel my soul screaming at me to open up and believe .
Still, there isn’t I can’t find a truth to believe in.
I am nothing without truth someone more than this.
I am someone.
Am I even alive? Who am I?
The words shook in my hand, tiny letters shattering me. I had written this months ago. My dreams then were so haunted and real. I remembered the mist taking me each night. I remembered the light, my savage, saving grace. I remembered so much about my dreams, but I still didn’t know the truth about my reality.
Still my dreams were like that.
Still I had no truth.
I threw the paper to the floor and pushed my shoulders back. Today would be different than my dreams; it would be real. Answers were powerful things. That was enough.
I walked to the mirror on the back of my door and locked eyes with my reflection. Even if I didn’t know who I was today, I knew who I wouldn’t be.
I remembered his words: I’m doing this for you...
“I am not my father,” I whispered.
For a moment, he was all I could see. His eyes looked back. His hair lay matted on mine. His lips smiled as he drank me in.
I closed my eyes, willing that singing voice to fill my head again. I knew it wasn’t anything real, but lately, aside from Tyler, it was the only thing that believed in me.
Then, like the light in my dreams: Become who you will always be...
When I opened them, my eyes shone as bright as the moon, ever blue, and I was me.
I was me .
I had black bags under my eyes, and my hair, looking more messy than normal, was thrown every which way. I still had on my hoodie from yesterday and somehow it was half on and half off, one arm in and one arm exposed.
But I was me.
I was not my father’s son today.
I smiled-
let him fade to dust.
~
The hot water felt so good, soothing my muscles and burning my skin red; and within ten minutes I was showered and back in my room. I grabbed a clean pair of dark jeans from my dresser, almost fell over into a pile of paper as I was putting them on, and tugged a gray sweater over my head. I rubbed my eyes a little, trying to get the blackness out of them, but it was no use.
I made my way over to my desk. Sat, clicking the keys of my computer, searching. Somehow, I found myself looking at pictures in my photo album. I was amazed at how much I had grown over the past year, into someone more than the scrawny guy I had been when I started high school. I surfed through pictures and came to one of me and Tyler at our kindergarten graduation. His mom had forwarded it to me years ago. In it we were small, tiny compared to everything else. We were smiling. I didn’t remember that day, but I remembered being that age. That’s when the problems had started. Funny, how some people change and some stay the same.
My eyes drifted toward the bottom of the screen. The clock blinked neon: 10:02 AM.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
School started two hours ago.
I moved so quickly that I knocked over my desk chair and fell onto the floor.
Why didn’t my alarm go off?
With a thud of regret washing over me, I realized I had fallen asleep without setting the clock. I must have.
Where’s Mom?
10:03 AM.
No time to think. Time was rushing forward without
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